Wool and Moonlight
by Grace157
Summary: Shortly after being appointed at Hogwarts, Remus Lupin takes Wolfsbane for the first time. But he's worried he might forget himself... perhaps something familiar will help to anchor him?


**Author's Note: Because I am an unashamed shipper of Lupin/cardigans. This is my first attempt at writing for him so I had a wander around his office. Apologies in advance for fluffiness!**

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When one becomes a werewolf during the full moon, they forget everything about themselves. All their thoughts, feelings and inhibitions are crushed by the savage beast that takes their place for the twelve long hours the moon hangs full in the sky. During that time the human person is gone, nonexistent, and the deeds he commits as a werewolf are a mystery to him when he wakes up. He won't remember anything that he has done in that time, even if he has killed his best friend.

But this time would be different, Remus Lupin told himself as he raised a smoking goblet to his lips. The Wolfsbane potion tasted incredibly bitter and burnt his throat as it went down, making his eyes water. As he coughed he slammed the empty cup down on his office desk, causing the Grindylow to glare at him through the wall of its tank. It would be a full moon tonight, and if all went well it would also be the first time he kept his mind during the transformation. Provided of course that Snape had put his grudges for him aside and made it correctly... No, he mustn't think like that. Whilst the two of them would never be more than acquaintances, they were both grown men now. The safety of the students had to come first.

All the same, it didn't hurt to take a few precautions. As well as moving any breakable objects out of harm's reach he'd secured the door with as many locking incantations as he knew and moved his desk in front of it to be doubly sure. If the worst happened then at least the noise he made would give them some warning.

There was a full-length mirror propped against the wall in the corner, presumably left by his predecessor (upon initial investigation he'd found a box of hair curlers hidden behind it). Remus' pale face stared back at him from beneath a fine layer of dust, and he noticed distractedly that a wisp of blue smoke was trailing from one corner of his mouth. As he brushed away some of the grime he found that his hands were trembling, the palms slick with sweat. Instead of bright blue, his eyes had turned a murky grey. It was almost time.

Remus flicked his wand at the torches, which instantly went out. The only light in the room now came from the orange glow of the fireplace. He opened the curtains just enough to allow a chink of moonlight to fall upon the floorboards and then he stood there, waiting.

Minutes passed. Remus found that he was shivering, though he didn't feel cold. He wished he could be sure that this potion would work, but how could it where so many others had failed? Wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers, he prayed that he would keep his mind. If the Wolfsbane potion really did all that it purported to do, it meant that the wizarding world was one step closer to a cure. Perhaps one day he might even be free of lycanthropy altogether?

The moon had risen up from behind the clouds and was now level with the top of the Astronomy tower. In perhaps another minute or so he'd know for sure. The pain of transforming held little fear for him now; it was simply something he had to endure. The thing that frightened him the most was forgetting who he was, forgetting that the people around him were more than walking slabs of meat. The thought that in any state of mind he had the capacity to kill those he held most dear disgusted him, but it was a fact he'd been forced to accept. As he watched, the moon rose slowly to its peak point in the sky, and then a spike of silver light pierced his heart.

Clouds swirled in front of his eyes. Gasping, Remus staggered backwards as the world lurched violently around him. He barely had time to put his wand safely on a high shelf when a crippling pain shot up his spine, as though a red hot poker had been laid across his back. He closed his eyes tightly as the heat intensified, biting his lip so hard that he tasted blood in his mouth.

Remus' spine grew longer until he became hunched over his desk, and he struggled to free himself of his cardigan as his fingers curled into claws. He groaned as his teeth forced their way down through his gums, long and sharp, and his tongue swelled in his mouth until it became difficult to breathe. As claws burst through his tight shoes he threw himself into the armchair and buried his face in the heavy cushion, determined not to bring the whole school running to his door by making a noise. The smell of leather and something like shampoo stung his nostrils as his nose became a snout. His muffled shouts became wolfish grunts as fur sprouted all over his body, each hair a small needle bursting through his skin. Then, limbs twitching uncontrollably, he collapsed to the floor, his head thudding against the cold floorboards as the end of his spine erupted in a tail. He waited for the world to dissolve in a haze of red, to feel the beginnings of bloodlust, but all that happened was that the agony stopped as abruptly as it had started.

Remus raised his head tentatively, half sure that it was morning and the potion hadn't worked, but the moon was still shining through the curtains, more brightly than ever in fact. He could see it so _clearly, _see all the little valleys and craters on its glowing surface, and when he rolled cautiously onto his stomach he discovered that he had paws. The Wolfsbane had worked!

Unused to his four-legged body, Remus clambered unsteadily to his feet. As a wolf, every sensation was magnified; he could smell the ink on the essays he'd been marking and the rot in the skirting board behind the filing cabinets. Even the ticking clock in the classroom next door wasn't faint enough to escape his super-sensitive ears. The combination of sounds and smells was somewhat overwhelming, and he shook his head in an effort to clear it.

The moonlight was now shining directly onto the mirror. Feeling a little punch-drunk, Remus directed his wobbly legs in its general direction. A scrawny-looking wolf approached him in the silvery glass, its grey eyes wide and wary. A threadbare tail hung limply against its leg and he could see ribs poking through the matted fur. Even as a wolf Remus looked tired and worn, not at all like the fearsome beast so many viewed him as. Then again, a year's worth of near-unemployment wouldn't see him at his healthiest. He hoped that this posting would last; Hogwarts was like a second home to him, and he was rather looking forward to teaching James' son. To think that only last month he had been searching for work in the Muggle world without any hope of a steady job, least of all one that paid well... he owed Dumbledore so much. The least he could do to repay him was to be a good teacher, and it was a task he planned to fulfil with great enthusiasm as soon as he was well again.

Somewhere overhead, an owl hooted. It was very dark now, even to his eyes. A heavy sleepiness washed over him in waves, causing his eyelids to droop. No doubt the drowsiness was a side effect of the potion, though he'd hardly slept for the past few nights. In the mirror, the wolf opened its large, toothy jaws- and yawned. He really was very tired...

Remus turned back to his office, realising that in all of his preparations he hadn't thought of where he might sleep as a wolf. All the doors were sealed, so there was no question of going upstairs to his bedroom. Yet he felt restless; his nose ached from being caged up with so many sounds and smells and his back still hurt from where he'd fallen. He yearned to be outside, to breathe in the cold air and run in the Forbidden Forest- but that was unthinkable. The armchair still smelled strongly of its previous occupant, and he didn't think he could stand a night with the stench of _Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and Scalp Treatment _filling his nostrils;he'd feel ill enough in the morning as it were.

Just as he was about to curl up on the floor Remus caught a scent of something vaguely familiar. Snuffling curiously, he investigated and traced it to the gap under his desk where he found a crumpled, woolly cardigan with one of the buttons missing: his own. _Something else that'll need ironing tomorrow, _he thought gloomily, but buried his nose in it all the same. It seemed to block out the other smells but it wasn't so strong that it hurt his nose. He left it lying on the floor. It wouldn't be of much use to him now but it had given him an idea.

The trunk containing most of his things stood open against the wall at the back of the room. He still hadn't properly unpacked, perhaps because he hadn't quite dared to believe he'd be staying and that Dumbledore wouldn't change his mind and send him away. Being appointed to teach here had seemed such an unbelievably good thing to happen that even now he was still having difficulty accepting it.

Most of his important possessions had been put in their proper places. All that remained were his clothes, and it was here that his scent was strongest. Remus climbed inside, burrowing down until he was hidden under a mound of chequered socks and grey ties and soft woolly jumpers. It was true that there was nothing quite so evocative as one's own sense of smell. The scents in here were familiar but not overwhelming: Honeyduke's dark chocolate, train soot, cardboard, wool and teabags. Each one was like a little piece of him stored safely away, a reminder of what he had temporarily lost. It wasn't much of a substitute for the real thing, but at least he could be sure that the real Remus Lupin had not gone for good. In the morning he would be back, tired but happy for once that the wolf hadn't harmed anyone, not even himself.

And so Remus the wolf curled up in his nest of clothes and crumpled up chocolate wrappers and drifted off to sleep, content in the knowledge that for once he was no danger to the inhabitants of Hogwarts. He wondered sleepily if he'd remember this in the morning, otherwise he might find it very difficult to explain what Hogwarts' Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher was doing sleeping in his travelling trunk...


End file.
